OVERAGE DESIRES
by Hakucho-E
Summary: Sephiroth, a young man of fifteen but already a first class SOLDIER, answers to his superior Lazard. Upon a visit to Lazard's empty office, he allows his rebellious, youthful character to take hold and engages in something inappropriate unknowing he will end up being caught.
1. Overage desires

**UNDERAGE BODY WITH OVERAGE DESIRES**

Sephiroth, a young mid-teen yet recently promoted for the position of first class SOLDIER. Not even a man yet, but still a full-fledged fighter and only the rank of a General to reach, and even that was within grasp. An exceptionally intelligent and talented juvenile, taught to be eloquent, graceful and respectful, despite his preparation since infancy to become the fiercest warlord of all time. Although befitted his adolescent character of occasional snarls and outbursts, he was mostly withheld and controlled in his manners; earning the respect of his seniors. One of them was Lazard Deusericus, the SOLDIER union executive at ShinRa Electric Power Company. Sephiroth had known him since the rigorous trainings began under the close watch of the executive; indirectly guided to propel as a solider, to rise in ranks and to one day lead the ShinRa army.

SOLDIER was the elite fighting force of ShinRa Electric Power Company with members of advanced super-soldiers possessing superhuman strength, speed, and agility. Much stronger than the ShinRa Peacekeeping Troops or the Turks, ShinRa used SOLDIER for special missions that require the greatest use of strength and, thus, Sephiroth was destined to be the finest of them all since he, even at the tender age of fifteen, already eclipsed more senior fighters.

Sephiroth entered the executive office. It was very spacious, flanked on the right with panoramic windows and with a large, projected screen behind the solid, antique office desk of polished rosewood, with ivory inserts, where Lazard would normally sit and read through mountains of documents concerning SOLDIER. In front of the desk there were two similar leather recliners as that in which he sat. On a delicately ornamented bookshelf with side-extension and movable pedestal drawers, situated to the left of the centrepiece office desk, were a few bottles of exquisite wine and port for prominent guests when meetings and negotiations had to be held on a more personal level. It was a magnificent office with a phenomenal view over the city. It was beautiful, elegant, yet neither overstated nor crowded; an office Sephiroth truly appreciated.

"Sir?" the young seraph called out. He was still in his SOLDIER outfit of black sleeveless turtleneck sweater, loose-fitting trousers with leather accents that hold armour and weapons in place when not in use. Sephiroth had removed his chest and shoulder armour, as well as helmet, before he even made his way to the office and was quietly moving about waiting for his superior to discuss the next stage of development now that the young seraph had advanced so quickly in ranks.

After a short while, his mobile rang and the executive announced he would be close to two hours late. He knew Sephiroth had been at the office waiting, but encouraged the young man to remain there until he appeared as it was imperative to have a talk sooner rather than later.

"Help yourself to some soft drinks at the bar next to the bookshelf. There should be alcohol free beverages on one of the shelves."

"Thank you, Sir," Sephiroth replied and walked up to the small office bar to look for something to drink. After a swift moment he had found nibbles of crackers and nuts and soft drinks of various sorts; the latter of which was not peaking his curiosity in the slightest. He snorted and brushed his silvery fringe aside, which was parted in the middle and barely reaching to his cheekbones to frame his juvenile face. The rest of his hair was gathered at the middle of the back of the head, high on the crown. The tail was neatly groomed and followed the curve of the head and hung at shoulder height. At times it was annoying as quick movements with the head sent the tail whipping him across the face, but with a few more years, he hope it would be long enough to rest against and along the back.

"Ruby port," he muttered whilst reading the golden letters on a bottle he picked up from a silver tray and studied it with curiosity. "… has a good intensity of colour, with more impressive thick, oily legs. The nose has rich black fruit with spice and a hint of cigar-box… what the hell does that mean?" Sephiroth raised eyebrows but continued "… smooth, rich palate, with good fruit and obvious alcohol, which retains a fiery presence. Well," he smiled, "if it's good enough for Lazard it's good enough for me."

He poured himself a glass of port, unknowingly way too much and began sipping on the drink between small portions of nuts being consumed. The first sip had a fire to it that heated the gullet and streamed like lava into the pit of his belly. The exhale carried strong alcohol vapour back into his nose cavity and made him cough. It was an unexpected blow, but the lingering sweetness beckoned for more.

Sephiroth walked up to the panoramic office window and looked over the darkening city as the dusk descended upon the buildings and streets light came alive. He stood there for a little while, sipping his port and allowing for the pleasantness of the drink to course through his veins. It was the first time he drank something he was not meant to according to his rigorous diet plans. However, the youth in him wanted to rebel; it wanted to explore, to give in to temptation and to curiosity; it wanted to learn by doing, learn by tasting and learn by experiencing. But the port was indeed fiery even for an exceptional little SOLDIER and his human heritage made him compatible with some euphoric highs his peers were experiencing too. His body was becoming pleasantly numb and his mind fogged over with erratic thoughts that became the centre of his state. Once he emptied his first glass, he poured up another and time in a way ceased to exist. A smile ghosted over his lips with a big sigh. Sephiroth was utterly relaxed and playfulness was seeping through his otherwise stern character. He was swirling in the chairs, pushing himself across the room and allowed right down irresponsible behaviour to read into whatever files he could find on the table.

Following his third glass, his steps became slightly less graceful and in an awkward moment of relinquished balance, Sephiroth spilled some of the wine on his top. The office was en suite and he stumbled into the bathroom. With some effort the young man managed to remove his top and started rinsing it under the tap. He wrenched the fabric inside a towel to dry it faster and hung it over the towel rack for time being before turning back to the sink. He splashed some water on his face and with the coolness that covered his face, some focus returned into his dazed head. Sephiroth took a deep breath and released an exhale saturated with alcohol. As he opened his eyes, he caught glimpse of himself in the mirror and remained standing there for a few minutes. The young man in the mirror wasn't staring back, but rather focused his gaze on the slim, smooth yet chiselled torso in white marble like skin. The muscles were not yet pronounced and veins were not protruding through the skin, nonetheless, his body carried evidence of arduous training. He was a thing of beauty, but it was not the visual input that triggered his spur of the moment, but rather the tantalising thoughts on what that body wanted to be subjected to. He closed his eyes and relished the fantasies that often haunted his juvenile mind. Sex and illicit games that he often indulged in through streaming images and movies on his private web-connection.

It had become a routine activity at night-time when he was back in his own private room. In juxtaposition to his superior strength, his agility and intelligence, he also had a raging libido that tainted his mind and focus on a daily basis; just like now. He felt the heat from his belly concentrate into his groin and with the remaining glass of port in his hand, he made his way into the office again. Sephiroth threw himself in Lazard's office recliner and placed his feet on the desk; legs crossed. He took a sip of wine, and before even swallowing the drink, his fingertips were slowly gliding over his belly, past the navel and following the edge of the trousers which were restraining his desire firmly clenched between his thighs. He swallowed his sip of port and took a deep breath. His body was getting hot and needed some attention. Carried by a wicked thought, he cleared the desk of documents and stretched over the neatly polished wood, exposing his body to the cool surface whilst undoing the trousers and pushing it far enough down the hips, over the swelling bulge, to free the pulsating member that was leaking with yearning.

Palpitating with a hint of desperation, his long fingers enclosed his vein-covered shaft and moved slowly along its length; rhythmically pulling the skin over the glans as images of women and men flooded his inner canvas. He lay many nights admiring their bodies, their actions, the luscious curves of the female body and the chiselled forms of the male stature; he desired them all. He also secretly desired Lazard. He was lanky, but elegant, always with a hint of cedarwood and musk fragrances, and impeccable manners. His face was mature, but with graceful lines and the notion that he was superior to Sephiroth in age and experience was both intriguing and catering to a fantasy to be subdued. Sephiroth was omnivorous and a ravaging hunger had surfaced as of late; a hunger that was hard to control. It could be awakened by a scent, a glance, a smile, a shape or even a move. It would take hold of him and he would dream of lust even in the waking hours of the day; calling for the man in him to awaken to his full potential as a male.

As his hands increased pace, lips were moistened by the tip of his tongue, and moans escaped his open throat. He was so engulfed by his own desires and distracted by his thoughts, that only the voice of Lazard ripped him brutally back to reality.

"I do apologise to intrude on your private party, but I wouldn't expect it to take place on my desk."

Sephiroth's eyes burst open and he immediately sat up, feeling sheepish and abashed, and desperately trying to maintain some dignity by shielding his penis with a hand. Lazard met his gaze with a stern look. The senior's eyes wondered over the naked torso and with deliberate callousness he nonchalantly pushed the hand aside to reveal a slowly wilting manhood. Sephiroth bit his lower lip and apologised and was ready to get off the table when Lazard spoke commandingly whilst making his way over to the open bottle of port.

"SOLDIERs never leave a job half done, Sephiroth," the executive said whilst pouring the red intoxicating drink into a glass. He walked back to the office desk and took his place in his armchair. "Am I right, soldier?"

"Yes, Sir," Sephiroth responded, cheeks still flushing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For disrespecting you."

Lazard smiled. He knew he was one of the very few people whom Sephiroth respected, as having an older and wiser senior to look up to was important for a young man who trumped most others he came in contact with. Lazard was older, mid thirties, and with age came some measure of wisdom, which was greatly appreciated by the young seraph. He needed people to look up to and his strong ethos did not allow him to disappoint; yet here he was. Caught masturbating on the desk of his senior, papers all strewn across the floor, mind and body fogged with vintage port and reactions numbed. In a way, Lazard felt honoured to be of such importance to the young man, and also, to provide with such sense of security that Sephiroth allowed himself to fully open up his soul.

"Well," Lazard repeated. "We do not leave a job half done."

He leaned back in the recliner and took Sephiroth into view. The white skin was almost fluorescent in the dimmed office, the slim body with the long limbs stretched across the desk like an offering on an altar. Sephiroth was a visual feast; even at his tender age. He knew the young body needed some release and secretly acknowledged his own voyeuristic pleasure in seeing the seraph so openly exposed. But Sephiroth was only fifteen and still underage; he couldn't bring himself to take advantage of the young man even if it fuelled his instant flare of craving. But he could allow himself a kiss.

Sephiroth accepted the kiss subduing him as Lazard pushed the young man down on the desk under the weight of merging lips. Sephiroth felt euphoria like electric impulses sending ripples of warm current through his body and gathering between his thighs. He moaned and took hold of Lazard's neck, pulling him closer and with a trembling voice asking for more.

Lazard had to gather all his strength to pull away as he softly spoke into Sephiroth's mouth; "I'd desire nothing more than to taste your youthful flesh, but I cannot until you've reached your appropriate age. Four months from now, you're sixteen. Then…"

Sephiroth flashed him with a beam, the broad smiling mouth exposing symmetrical teeth behind thin lips. He knew, Lazard always kept his promise and thus eased his embrace although maintained a tight grip with his gaze. Lazard sat down and swirled his glass and took a sip of wine. He smiled at the young man and raised his glass in a toast.

"To pleasure, my beautiful Sephiroth."

Sephiroth's hands anew found the centre of his burning desire; his member growing hard and yearning for release. Lazard watched the shapely fingers dance over the shaft, skin moving over the glans and testicles occasionally cupped in warm palms. As an impatient youth, stirred by emotions running amok and further teased by a ripping moment, he soon found himself at the point of no return. Lazard watched with ripping anticipation as the body in front of him began ascending to climax; movements grew more intense, Sephiroth's moans were louder, and the slick penis got increasingly wet. He was almost tuning into the fervent breathing of the seraph, heart pounding wildly and sensations coursing through every nerve in his body. Sephiroth's head flung to the side, wet, burning eyes taking Lazard into view with almost an agonising expression.

"Please, Sir," Sephiroth panted.

Lazard delayed his words with only a few seconds, but it seemed like eternity. With satisfaction sprung from his ultimate control over the seraph, he whispered; "I grant you release."

With an echoing scream and cramping muscles, Sephiroth released his orgasm; pushing semen over his torso, which burst out of him in recurring waves until the intensity ebbed and washed over his knuckles in rivulets of milky liquid. He was breathing heavy, panting like a famished dog and only managed to extend his wet hand to reach for Lazard as a gesture of gratitude for a moment of peace. Lazard leaned forward and took the long fingers into his hand and kissed them; relishing the salty, crisp taste of Sephiroth's spending. The young man watched a set of soft lips clear his fingers of the remnants of his desire and turned to face Lazard. Sephiroth lay on his side, still too dazed and exhausted to get up and spoke softly.

"Four months from now."

Lazard smiled. Yes, that was the young man's birthday and then the gloves were off and the battle of desires could begin.


	2. Happy birthday, Sephiroth

**HAPPY SWEET-SIXTEEN, SEPHIROTH**

A slightly unconventional birthday; that's how he saw it. The celebration was hosted by Mrs Hewley who had baked a cake of finely ground walnuts and cinnamon, filled with custard and decorated with strawberries and cream. It was a so-called summer cake, and one of Sephiroth's favourites. The Hewley family was living under very humble conditions, but Mrs Hewley had the capacity to create masterpieces even in a wood fired oven; the cake was rich, bursting with flavours and more beautifully decorated than if served in the most exquisite patisserie in the high-end quarters. The Rhapsodos family had provided the groceries in honour of the humble celebration and were now surrounding the young man who was stepping into manhood in age and soul. Sephiroth was surrounded by his closest friends, Angeal and Genesis, and professor Gast from the ShinRa laboratory. The blithe afternoon progressed in light mood and laughter, laced with anecdotes and stories, as well as drinks of all sorts. Genesis had brought some mead from the local brewery and Sephiroth, along with his closest friends, could officially make a toast with a light alcoholic beverage.

"Happy birthday, Sephiroth," said professor Gast and tapped his glass with a seemingly resolute silver-haired youth. Reflecting only a smile at first, and then swiftly opening up to a beam, Sephiroth met glasses across and around the table, inviting everyone for a small celebration of coming of age. He was excited and proud. Genesis was the oldest of the three boys and turned sixteen nearly a year ago, followed by Angeal only four months later, and at last it was Sephiroth's turn. He was the baby of the company, something the other two at times teased him for, but that would finally come to an end. He was an equal and no longer just a boy, although admittedly, when it suited some purpose he would play the part of an immature juvenile just to get away with dropping additional responsibilities. Today's celebration would make those games a bit harder to play convincingly.

Gifts were handed to the young soldier, all of which were combat related or adorning his new uniform; similar to gifts honouring Angeal and Genesis when they moved up in rank and age. When all other gifts were handed out, professor Gast presented Sephiroth with a surprise that made the young man's heart leap with anticipation.

"This is a gift from executive Deusericus," he said and handed over an exquisite box carrying the signature of ShinRa's own tailor.

Sephiroth's eyes grew big, pupils almost round and lips slightly parted with disbelief. He had not heard from Lazard for weeks and following that fleeting voyeuristic moment in his office months ago, nothing was ever disclosed or discussed related to the subject of eroticism. He hadn't even called Sephiroth to wish his well on his birthday this morning; how unexpected to receive a gift so openly offered… and received. Sephiroth had not revealed that night to anyone; not even his closest friends. He was hesitating for a moment to place his hands on the box as if those actions would betray his locked mind and reveal the deep secret dwelling within for the world to see. With cautious moves the young seraph opened the box; as the silvery matt tissue paper fell to the ground, a full-length trench coat of resistant and laminated chinghiale leather reached towards the floor. He was lost for words. He was blinking with disbelief, lips stale and numb and just returned a questioning gaze.

"I was told there was a history to that coat," professor Gast began. "Genesis and Angeal had revealed for Lazard that upon visiting the Haymarket during the winter solstice celebrations, you had set your eyes on something similar and expressed your desire to own a coat like that. Lazard makes sure he cares for his soldiers."

Sephiroth melted his shiny, emerald gaze into those of Genesis and Angeal, filled with gratitude and humility. They had memorised and honoured his wish, and brought it forth to the executive to make the young seraph's transition to manhood something unforgettable. There was no need for words; silence following a genuine smile was sufficient.

The afternoon sun was slowly setting beyond the mountains and as the modest celebration quieted down, professor Gast thanked Mrs Hewley for her hospitality and excused himself; he had to close down the lab for the weekend and would be able to drive Sephiroth, upon the young man's request, to Lazard's office. He wished to express his gratitude in person.

The elevator was making it up to the thirty-fifth floor. Sephiroth looked into the mirror and took a deep breath. He returned an apprehensive gaze with an extensive exhale that misted the glass and shaded his juvenile features. He was nervous, but excited at the same time since he had made up his mind to make this visit and it would be his own birthday gift to himself.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened just across from the grand office. His heart was pounding wildly as he made his way across the hall and before long, his knocking extracted a response from a familiar voice.

"Come in."

Sephiroth stepped into the office; in the far end was Lazard, sitting behind his ornamented desk with the usual stack of papers and reports flanking him from both sides. It was early evening, but still too late to be in an office on a weekend. Lazard, however, the illegitimate son of ShinRa, always felt he needed to prove himself worthy of this position and, thus, spent many nights in solitude and consistently buried under responsibilities. The young man walked up to the office desk, circling around it and wedged himself between the desk and Lazard's chair. The executive pushed the armchair back and distanced himself with a content sigh. He kept his eyes resting against the floor for a few seconds but then raised them whilst a smile ghosted over his lips.

"The coat looks very good on you," Lazard said taking his time to appreciate his gift on the young seraph. "It suits you well."

Sephiroth nodded whilst scrutinizing the senior.

"I heard Angeal and Genesis told you about it," he said. "I had noticed something similar at the market, but this is…" he paused and shifted more to the middle of the desk to face Lazard straight on as he continued, "… this is so much more beautiful. Thank you."

Lazard let go of a fleeting smile and nodded; further extending the sentiment as the last word "beautiful" latched on to his visual perception of the boy in front of him. He was desperately trying to find the words with which to push Sephiroth away, but everything came out the opposite. Lazard had deliberately avoided contacting Sephiroth for weeks, hoping that by silence he would kill off the desire within them both as whatever was rooting inside had perhaps been wrong and definitely considered twisted by the ShinRa organisation. Sephiroth, on the other hand, counted the days, and finally he was in Lazard's presence again. In some strange way, the executive was happy to receive him and seemingly neither of them cared anymore what anyone would think. Sephiroth could have chosen any man or woman for his first adventure; some lucky lady will be his first female adventure, but for now, Lazard was chosen to fulfil a taboo desire.

"Would you like to see the boots?" Sephiroth finally asked and casually leaned against the desk, allowing for the trench coat to split open and reveal the matching, new thigh-high boots, secured with straps below and above the knees, and the naked skin beyond the edge of the boot shaft. Lazard felt the heat rush to his groin as illicit desires helplessly flooded his mind. He looked up at Sephiroth, met his gaze with controlled, stone-like features and with audacious fingers undid another clasp on the coat, allowing it to open even more. The white, muscular thighs of the young man were initially tightly clutched, as befitted a virgin, but eased as Lazard gingerly followed the crevice between them until the lining of the coat stopped him further up in his path. He could sense the agitated state of the young man; Sephiroth couldn't hide his heaving chest, the nostrils flaring to take in the cool air to dampen the heat inside. He was young, inexperienced and Lazard was relishing the control he exerted over the seraph. Licking his lips like a predator, Lazard's fingers undid the last securing clasp around Sephiroth's waist and the coat fully opened, revealing a naked, yearning body, encased in burning marble skin, which was delightfully contrasting against the black leather. The long coat accentuated Sephiroth's slim, tall stature whilst the thigh-high boots without the rest of the soldier uniform catered to sexualising his features.

"The boots… as well… suit you nicely," Lazard purred and leaned back in his chair, admiring the hardened, pale manhood growing out of its protective skin and reaching towards him. Sephiroth was holding on to the edge of the table as if it had been his only sense of security; body trembling with excitement and words muted in his throat. Nevertheless, no words were needed; Lazard knew what the seraph was longing for. Four months ago he was caught masturbating in the presence of the executive, and since then his mind had been occupied with expectations surrounding this moment.

Lazard moved his office chair close to the seraph, only a breath away from the hips of the young man. Thoughts on ShinRa Corporation were once again crowding in his head, but he dismissed them in a silent battle, knowing how much pleasure and life they have all been robbed of for the benefit of its existence. Sephiroth will continue his lifelong battle and he doesn't even know it yet; at least his transition into manhood should be free from the restraints of ShinRa's rules and regulations, their crippled morals and the hypocrisy. Indeed, Sephiroth was standing before Lazard pure in intent as in body. The young seraph had made no secrecy about his fondness of the executive and was now holding the senior to a promise made in the past. Lazard felt his heart beat warmly at the thought of such loyalty.

He remained seated and with soft fingertips followed the contours of a throbbing member watching Sephiroth's face nearly dissolved in pleasure as a half muted moan escaped the moist, swollen lips. The young man had seen erotic features and could imagine what a touch could feel like, but to experience it skin against skin, was beyond what the mind could conjure up. His fingers curled around the desk and head flung back with an extensive and loud intake of breath as his member slid deep into the warm embrace of Lazard's mouth. Pleasure was surging through the source of the moist heat, coursing through his veins and spreading inside his body like liquid fire. Without even noticing, his arms gave way and slowly he lay down on his back, head hanging over the edge of the desk and legs spread to the delight of Lazard. The pale body was receptive and responsive to the cosseting hands, the playful mouth, the coiling tongue and the burning kisses, but Lazard didn't want it to end too soon. He knew Sephiroth wanted a union. Thus, he pushed the young man's legs further back and exposed his portal for endearing abuse with mouth and fingers. He gently pushed one finger inside Sephiroth to which the seraph quickly raised his head, taking Lazard into view. It was an unusual and foreign sensation, which bordered between pleasurable and disagreeable. It was intrusive, yet as his member was once again caressed, the strange sensation turned more pleasant.

Lazard could feel the muscle relaxing around his finger and after moistening the tight portal a bit more, he pushed yet another digit inside the young man. This time, Sephiroth relaxed a bit more, allowed for the sensations to settle and encouraged the senior for more indulgence by placing his hands on Lazard's head, burrowing his fingers into his blonde mane and gently pushing the head rhythmically down his own shaft.

As the tongue circled his flesh, the digits inside moved to seek, to probe, to pleasure and to find that little spot, which was the centre of his pent up desire. Lazard watched the seraph arch his back and moan loudly as the little bud inside him was discovered and playfully stimulated. As an eager youth, Sephiroth was quickly aroused to the pinnacle of his ecstasy and close to spending; member leaking with slick lubricant and veins protruding in pulses through the thin, transparent skin. The executive stopped and slowly stood up from his chair, reluctantly releasing the seraph from his mouth. He placed his hands on Sephiroth's slim waist and traced the contours of a toned torso to the shoulders, and encouraged the young man to stand up.

Dazed and high on elation, Sephiroth obeyed and hardly took notice of the coat slipping off his shoulders as he was repositioned, bending over the sturdy desk. His right leg was also resting against the rosewood surface whilst the rattle of condom packaging drowned in his own panting and surging blood. The cool, artificial lubricant dripped over his buttocks, following the canyon between the firm cheeks and flowing over the hot, little portal now aching to be breached. Sephiroth cast a hazy glance over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the toned waist of Lazard partially exposed behind the open shirt and trousers. Although more experienced, the senior was all but aloof. He too was perturbed, cheeks flushing and chest heaving with those heavy, revealing breaths.

Sephiroth smiled and pushed his buttocks teasingly against Lazard for which he received a playful slap on his rear. The slight twinge only added to his pleasure and he subsequently deliberately provoked a second slap to his bottom. His head flung back and the flowing slivery ponytail was caught in the hand of Lazard, gently assuming control over it as a rein. Pulling it forced Sephiroth to arch his back as a hard member slowly pushed inside the juvenile, receptive body. Both released a simultaneous moan as pleasure overtook them, and following a few gentle moves, Lazard's free hand reached around the pale hips of the seraph to encase his member in a playful palm.

Sephiroth relished the overload of sensations emanating from within, as well as from his rhythmically caressed shaft, merged with the encouraging, dirty, little words slipping from Lazard and his own audible confirmations of indulgence.

The fluorescent lights of the office were shining down on two famished bodies merging with desire. Lazard was gentle and attentive to every move of the seraph; gauging and assessing the pleasure he was giving to an inexperienced body. He pushed his hips against the firm buttocks of the young man, watching the muscle tremble as it received the thrust, thus fuelling his own visual gratification. As the feelings intensified, Sephiroth began leaning into the thrusts, guiding the pace by meeting the plunges through pushing against Lazard and holding the intruding shaft in a tight portal. His moans grew, breath becoming shallow, and his eyes were increasingly burning. Not being able to formulate a comprehensive sentence out of elation, he directed Lazard's hands to take a firm hold of his hips with both hands, whilst reaching his own shaft to heighten his pleasure.

The executive understood from Sephiroth's moves, that the young man had reached a point where he was craving for speed and more determined thrusts. With his hands firmly anchoring on to the seraph's narrow hips, Lazard began pushing himself to climax. The thrusts were short, intense and deep; every one of them taking him higher on elation.

Sensing the tension and pleasure cooped up inside Lazard, Sephiroth intensified his moves around his own member. Every push from Lazard was like an electric impulse shooting through his spine and washing over his senses. His heart was racing, hammering like ravaging beasts against his rib cage and the familiar sensations of ascending highs overtook every nerve in his body. His hand was tugging, his lips were moaning, his eyes screwed shut and strewn over by thousands of twinkling stars, his body was trembling and his sensations reaching the point of rapture.

Suddenly, Lazard felt the warm cave around him collapse, pulling him in and rhythmically cramping along the entire shaft, teasing his euphoria into release. As Sephiroth's scream filled the air, Lazard arched his back, helplessly losing himself inside the young man and emptying his ecstasy in waves of heat flowing through him. His abdomen was cramping while the muscles pushed his essence through his being and following the crash from his euphoric high, he collapsed on the back of the shivering seraph. Sephiroth was panting, audibly trying to recover from the exhaustive union, slowly trying to regain strength in his numb limbs.

Still weakened, but slowly awakening, Lazard pulled out of Sephiroth, his member growing increasingly flaccid and the condom remaining loose with his emptied seed. He discarded the protection and stumbled into the bathroom to fetch a towel. Sephiroth had remained motionless, continuously bent over the table, and thus with the towel wrapped around his waist, Lazard directed him to the shower with a kiss carrying the words "Happy birthday, Sephiroth."

Neither of them spoke for a long while, only exchanging glances, kisses, and occasional physical contact to ensure the feelings were still lingering on. The water had long stopped pelting against the floor when the two once again reunited in the grand office.

"What happens now?" Sephiroth finally asked with a trailing apprehension of a perfect night ending too soon, but Lazard was indeed the wiser and more experienced of the two.

"What happens is… dinner at mine. It's half past eight and I haven't had anything to eat since lunch… you?"

Sephiroth tilted his head from side to side admitting he had at least enjoyed some cake.

"Well," Lazard continued, "do you have room for steak?"

Sephiroth smiled and nodded and watched as Lazard called for his driver to prepare for a pick up. As much as he wanted to go to Lazard and share a meal, the night still felt unfinished and there was more he wanted to learn, to taste, to feel… Finally, he spoke.

"And then what, Sir? Do we call it a day?"

Lazard smiled at the dejected glance hiding behind the façade of the young seraph.

"No, my dear," he responded as he adjusted his jacket. "The evening is merely half way through. We still have the night ahead of us. Remember what I taught you, Sephiroth… we do not leave a job half done."


End file.
